


We Are Starstuff

by Skull_Bearer



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: ASMR, Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Disabled Character, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stars, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hermann makes space-themed ASMR videos, and Newt is his biggest fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Starstuff

**Author's Note:**

> Well, after I prompted this on tumblr I felt obliged to write it. So here you go.  
> This is [asmr ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autonomous_sensory_meridian_response).
> 
> Title taken from [Carl Sagan's Cosmos](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iE9dEAx5Sgw).
> 
> The quote Hermann tells Newt was taken from [lyrstzha's livejournal](http://lyrstzha.livejournal.com/57444.html).

It's a bad day.

Newt knows it will be a bad day when he gets up. There's something under his skin; a raw, itchy feeling, and someone's taken out his bones and replaced them with something brittle and frail. Like he's made of glass in a world of rocks.

He tries. He really does. He gets in the shower and works through the insurmountable obstacle of finding socks- and shit, his mind jams because they don't match and people will know and laugh and he can _hear_ them already-

Finally, it's the meltdown he has trying to find his car keys that ends any attempt to go into class. He's scarlet and trying not to sob and everything feel so utterly _broken_ and he looks at his car and know he's not going anywhere. He can't drive. It's not the anxiety speaking, it's just plain fact- he might as well be looking at climbing Everest.

He texts in sick, just to avoid having to talk to anyone. Hopefully he can get notes from someone- he drags that train of thought off the rails before he descends into a maelstrom of _oh fuck oh fuck I missed a class I won't catch up no one'll help me I'm gonna fail-_

He takes his clothes off. He gets into bed. He turns the lights off and draws the blinds. He curls up on the bed and tries to fall asleep, tries to ignore the miserable, tangled feeling inside him. He feels tears prick his eyes because he feels so _awful_ and there's nothing he can do about it and the more helpless he feels the worse it is-

His phone beeps and Newt's stomach knits itself into a pretzel. _Please not now please_ \- he can't _take_ anything today- not today-

But it's not a message, or an email, it's a Youtube alert. Newt blinks, focusing on the screen and- hey-

Because the universe might just be feeling sorry for him, because SoundsOfSpace just uploaded a new video.

And that would have made Newt's day if today was good because SoundsOfSpace makes only a few videos a year, and they're all wonderful, but right now he almost wants to cry with relief because he couldn't need this more right now.

He props the phone on his bedside table where he can see it, and puts in his earbuds. The video is almost an hour long. He curls up in a ball and hugs his pillow, and presses play.

 _Good evening; gentlemen, ladies, and all others listening._ The voice is low, soft. Queen's English with just a purr of Prussian. Just the _sound_ sends prickles up Newt's spine and dances across his skin. The video blazes with multicoloured light- a thousand stars, a photo from the Hubble.

_Tonight I will show you star formation. Together, we will travel the universe, and I will show you the fields of interstellar dust that form our star nurseries. We'll discover the formation of the gases that give the stars their life, and the many millions of ways this simple process forms every star in our universe-_

Newt snuggles in, feeling warm and cold and tingly and sweet. The scratchy feeling is nothing but a nagging pull at the back of his mind- and that's fading too. He still feels wobbly and weak- but that's fine. He's in bed, he's safe, and he's about to wander the galaxy with SoundsOfSpace.

_But first, a few thank yous to the people who made this possible. Thank you as always to the people working on the Hubble Space Program for their hard work and generosity in making these photos public, so we can all enjoy the beauty of the cosmos. Generous thanks to the Royal Observatory at Greenwich for providing the means for me to make these videos-_

One day, Newt promises himself, already fighting to keep his eyes open as the images on screen pan to a photo of Greenwich Obervatory surrounded by a sea of stars- a bit unlikely for London, but whatever- one day he is going to go to England and track down SoundsOfSpace doing research or whatever he does for Greenwich, and he is going to- to _kiss_ him or something, for being a wonderful human being and for having saved his life with these videos.

 _But most of all I would like to thank the- ah- very **imaginatively** named GojiraKaiju for his response to my last video. Doing these videos can sometimes seem like sending little Voyager probes into the void. I don't know what you think of them, I can only hope to touch some of you, and communicate something of my wonder. But sometimes_-

There's a smile in that voice. Newt barely notices it between the sudden dampness in his eyes and the wonderful warmth swelling inside him.

 _-sometimes, someone reaches back. And knowing that you moved them, that you made a difference in their lives, makes it all worthwhile. Gojira- or whoever you might be, wherever you might be- thank you. Your response brought me so much happiness and was a ray of sunlight in a life that -_ wryly _-spends so much time in the night._

Newt's finger knot in the pillowcase. He can taste the salt on his cheeks and he sniffs wetly.

_I am happy- so happy to hear that I have been able to help you with these videos. I want you to know that I am thinking of you- even if you think no one else is. No matter how hard it gets, I want you to know it is worth it. Remember this, wherever you are tempted to give up: You are carbon, built of diamond and ash and molecules that once made up the hearts of stars. Rust and brine, the powers of iron and ocean, flow in your veins. Harnessed lightning carries your thoughts. Vast colonies live and die within the compass of your skin. The curls of protein in your smallest cell tell the history of your entire race written in the subtle, precise tongue of chemistry. You are legion, you are epoch, you are a world unto yourself **.**_

There's a moment's silence. The images change to a close up of the Ultra Deep Field, a million galaxies stretching away into infinity.

 _Or, that was what my lecturer told me, when I was having a meltdown over my final exams._ SoundsOfSpace adds rather quickly. _But, GojiraKaiju, this one is for you. You are made of starstuff, and one day you are going to find yourself again._

He's crying. He's crying and it feels so good and there's a warmth to SoundsOfSpace's voice, as the images turn to the Pillars of Creation and he begins; a soft, tender murmur of the beauty and wonder of star formation. It's for him. A thousand miles away, he watched that stupid, babbling video Newt made, and this is for him.

The universe has never been more wonderful.


End file.
